


Quick Risk

by preludedArtist



Category: Transistor (Video Game)
Genre: After, Centered on Olmarq, Do you ever accidentally ship something halfway through writing a work, Fake backstory, Makeouts, Other, Past Relationships, Transistor Week, idk what to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 16:36:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6914887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preludedArtist/pseuds/preludedArtist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is how it was going to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quick Risk

**Author's Note:**

> My contribution for Transistor week Day 6 (Character of choice; After)

  Olmarq is staring at a light blue sky the minute he opens his eyes. His chest aches for a very short second but it dulls down to the point where he couldn't feel a thing. Something scratches at his arm and now just starts to notice that be is practically surrounded by some sort of wheat grass?

 What had he been doing before he today? What is today?

  He sits up with a small grunt, pushing himself to his feet. It didn't feel too hot nor too cold. There was a comfortable breeze that made the wheat grass sway against his skin.

 He unclasps the shoulder pads that he currently had on. Why did he have them? He’s retired, hasn't he? Olmarq reaches up and removes his helmet, letting out a quiet breath. He shakes his head, a habit he's built up to try getting rid of his matted down helmet hair.

He holds his helmet in his hands, staring down at it thoughtfully.

 

 

_He agreed. Retirement. He had recently told the press he'd been considering it._

_And now here was the widely known administrator, contacting him with an offer that would benefit him and his soon to be former team._

_He'd been all for it. Time is… the best remedy. He was eager to move forward; impatient at the waiting and the process of negotiation. But now, here he was, with the room lit up from a bright blue._

_He gives the administrator a look. Reluctant, confused. Defiant. His fists balled up and he took a step back but it was_ **_too_ ** _fast._

_It pressed into him. His chest. He’s to his knees, curling into himself and letting out a surprised gasp._

_He looks down at it, the tip buried deep inside his chest and the last thing he sees is that bright blue  light._

 

 

 

 Olmarq cradles his helmet in his arms, staring down at the wheat grass as he slowly walks through the fields. This is it. His career was short. He was only 22. And this… was it.

 

 

~~_ <<>>_~~

 

 

 “It’s been long. A long time, hasn't?”

 Olmarq looks up at Preston. The other was pacing around, hands running through the wheat grass. He nods in agreement then, twiddling a piece of grass in between his fingertips. “Four years?”

 Preston sits next to Olmarq, looking down at the fire.

 Fire in the middle of a field of wheat. Not a good idea but. What's the worst that could happen in this place? What's the worst that could happen to them? Die? Again? However it was obedient. No matter how much the breeze blew and the wheat swayed, the fire stayed put. It was unnatural. Does fire usually move that way?

 

 

 

_Olmarq is fifteen. He meets Preston by accident, marvelling at a parked bike._

_“Completely one of her kind.” He says, beaming st the younger teen. “I’m Preston Moyle! Ridden a bike before?”_

_Olmarq shakes his head. “Shit, I haven't. How fast does she go?”_

_“As fast as 190! For now. You've really never been on a bike before, kid?”_

_Preston is twenty-two. He’s ridden bikes for as long as he could remember._

_“Bein’ honest. I fucking swear.” Olmarq already can tell where this was headed._

_Preston picks up a helmet and offers it to the kid. “Hop on. You’re about to ride with the wind. Hold on tight, okay?” He gets on the bike and Olmarq gets on behind him, hands tight on his shoulders._

_He revs up the bike, giving Olmarq an excited grin before they’re riding off._

 

 

_“That was fucking insane!” Olmarq is giddy with adrenaline, practically quivering. He still has on Preston’s helmet, giving the rider an excited look._

_“That isn't even the her fastest. One day I'll be making Cloudbank’s fastest bike.” He takes the helmet off of Olmarq and places onto his own head. “And we will be the first ones to ride it, kid. Just you watch; I’m going to be a living record.”_

 

 

 

 Two adrenaline junkies. They matched, despite his own recklessness and Preston’s preciseness.

 “How did you get here, Olmarq?”

 Olmarq shrugs.

 Was he… murdered? Technically.

 Was this some sort of heaven? The sky was dark now compared to the docile blue it was when he had woken up.

 “I thought you left Cloudbank. There were news all over the place. That you retired. It shocked me. Shocked many people.”

 “Yeah. I. It was a fuckin tough time.”

 “Do you think we’re dead?”

 Olmarq glanced up at him. Preston looks distraught.

 “Think about it. The afterlife. The goddamn afterlife. Is that what this is?”

 

 Olmarq shrugs. “It sure is... _something_.”

 

 

 

  _“Trying to make my way up to the top. Y’know his that is.”_

_Olmarq is seventeen now. Just won the first big game he’s ever played._

_“That takes time, Olmarq- now stop talking you literally have cotton in your mouth.”_

_Olmarq reaches in his mouth, pulling out two blood soaked cotton balls. He’s lost a tooth in his first game. A few hours ago. He’s still bleeding and god he does not stop talking. “Did you see how I rushed that guy? Fuckin’ slammed into him! Gave up the ball real fuckin quick.”_

_Preston is getting another few balls of cotton, wiping away at the blood dripping from Olmarq’s mouth with a cloth. “Oi, shut up for one minute. Keep your mouth open.” He places and presses down the cotton ball onto the empty space where Olmarq’s incisor used to be. “The other guy seemed really hurt. Ran into him pretty hard, didn't you?”_

_“Oh, fuck that. He’ll be fine.” Olmarq rolled his eyes and then winced when Preston purposely pressed down with the cotton. He waits until the other finishes treating him. “Worst I coulda done was give him a sprain or dislocate a joint or some other shit.”_

_Preston sits up, offering Olmarq a yogurt. “Just try not to get into trouble over that. People here have a… mob mentality.”_

 

 

 

“Here forever, aren't we?”

 Preston looks over, rolling onto his side; there's pieces of wheat in his hair.  

 Olmarq reaches over to remove them, carrying a thoughtful expression. “Seems like it. A fucking bore it’s going to be.”

 “I haven't seen you in four years. Now we have plenty of time to catch up.”

 Olmarq quirks a brow and Preston smiles.

 “Right. Catch up. What if we run out of things to say?”

 Preston lightly pulls on the other’s sleeve, coaxing him to lie down in the grass with him. “I’m sure we won’t. There’s always going to be something to say. To do.”

 

 

 

  _His lips is busted. Bleeding. But neither of them care._

_Olmarq is almost 19 and he’s trapped Preston in a liplock. His hands are in the other’s dark hair, tugging. Up the other’s clothing, scratching skin. Reckless._

_And Preston is so gentle with him. Holding Olmarq’s face in his hands._

_“Ah, careful-” Preston hisses, arching at the sudden sting up his back. “Damnit, your lip. We should… really be treating this.” He pulls away to run his thumb over Olmarq’s lower lip. It had been busted during one of his recent plays. His team had won, again, but he's so much more beat up._

_Olmarq lightly pulls his head back and smirks. “This is nothin’, get over it.”_

_Preston frowns and gives him a look._

_Olmarq brushes back his hair. “Fine, okay. Sorry.” He’s then mouthing at the biker’s neck, catching him off guard and feeling him melt under him._

 

 

 

“The bike. Managed to get it up. Custom made. Broke plenty of records.And a bone or two” Preston beams as he speaks.

 “Shit, yeah?”

 “Yes! And she was such a beauty. Took me far and fast and anywhere I wanted, Took me years to get her done.” Preston lets out a heavy sigh, most likely reminiscing. “All worth it though. All that trouble work. Turns out it does pay off in the end.

 “Wish I had still been around to ride it. Must have been a fuckin’ beast riding around the city.”

 

 

 

 There’s a house here. In the middle of the fields.

 Of course it gets their attention. Something new. Different. They don’t understand why it’s here. But they’ll take it.

 God, they’re willing to take anything.

 

  Olmarq misses Cloudbank. Misses the noise and the people and the lights and views. He misses the changes and the constant updates.

 He misses what he used to do. The adrenaline of each game and the rush of each win.

 But this is it.

 This is how it was going to be.

 

 

 

 

 But at least he wouldn’t be on his own for this.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was just going to be about 300 words before I pretty last minute decided to add in Preston. I'm glad I did.


End file.
